Hogwarts Purity
by SamCaps
Summary: Generations after the final book of Harry Potter, Hogwarts has changed immensely. Voldemort is seen as the rightful victor in the fight for a purer Hogwarts. When Zinnia is selected to join Hogwarts, she is placed in the lowliest house, Gryffindor. In the struggle to become a less shameful house, she discovers much about what happened in Harry Potter's time.
1. Chapter 1

Selection is strictly done, applications are done in a timely manner, and the classes are as hard as breaking a brick wall with a butter knife. There was no way I was getting into Hogwarts. I had as much chance as a breadstick. Of course, "luck" is always on my side.

After the Time of Chaos, when Lord Voldemort bravely battled the crashing Hogwarts School and the troublemaker, Harry Potter, the school changed. It became stricter, with tighter security, and a smaller amount of classes. Divination was kicked out, along with Care of Magical Creatures, Arithmancy, Flying, Study of Ancient Runes, and Herbology.

Hogwarts, overall, is a better place now. I guess I should have felt excited, but I didn't. No one I knew had been selected, and I was horrible at magic. The only thing I had managed to do since I was five (and accidently set my aunt's hair on fire), was light candles on my birthday cake.

"It's for your own good," my mother said, stuffing my new Hogwarts robes into my suitcase. They were white, a symbol of purity and wisdom. She also put in my mask, which I wasn't so excited about. All Hogwarts students were required to wear pale white masks during school hours. They were flat-faced, and lacked adequate nose holes.

"I suck at magic," I said, which was a legit argument, just not in my mother's mind.

"Here," she said, and handed me my wand. "Cast a spell."

" _Lumos_ ," I said forcefully. The wand quivered, and then lay still in my hands. "I can't do magic to save my life."

"I bet you're just better at a certain type of magic," My mother assured me. I doubted that ever would be true.

–––––––––––

The castle loomed over me, twice as large as the Old Hogwarts, which only made up the southern section of the large castle. Three whole towers were dedicated to Defense Against the Dark arts.

When I entered into the grand hall, thousands of eyes were staring at me. I followed the rest of the First Years to the front of the hall, where the teachers sat in a line in front of us, their eyes scanning us for any flaw… and little imperfection.

"Your houses are pre _selected_ ," an old woman said. She was wearing a white top hat with a cross-stitched H on the front. "Slytherin is for our bravest, and most successful students. Ravenclaw is for those with twice as many brains as the typical wizard… or witch! Hufflepuff is for the most loyal people known. Gryffindor is for the cowards and shameful students."

Many First Years started whispering. I wanted _anything_ but Gryffindor. The Gryffindor table looked fairly full, though.

"Abigail Leonard!" the woman called out. "Ravenclaw!"

One of the First Years hurried to join the Ravenclaws.

"Brenan Lands! Slytherin!"

"Lance Doyle! Slytherin!"

"Maria Sullivan! Hufflepuff!"

It went on and on, until _finally_ , my name was called.

"Zinnia Clark! Gryffindor!"


	2. Chapter 2

"Well, what's the password?" the Fat Lady drawled. Her dress was tattered, her wine glass was chipped, her hair was an unruly knot, and her face was distorted by a scowl.

"Fidelius," I muttered. The Fat Lady grumbled and the door swung open. I stepped into the dim common room. There were only a few students about, concentrating on their homework. There was the scratching of pens, but otherwise, the room was silent.

"First years," one of the prefects said glumly, "Follow me."

There were eight first years total, five boys and three girls. The boys, as I later learned, were named Dennis, Perry, Slider, and Charles. The girls were Constance, Sam, and myself.

"Boys, up to that dormitory. All the way to the top. Get a bed and settle in. Curfew is at eight. Girls. Follow me." The prefect led the three of up a spiral staircase, into a tower.

"Here's your room," the prefect said, "Get comfy."

She opened the door and let us in. Immediately, Sam sat down on the closest bed and buried her head in the pillow. The sound of muffled sobs were the only sounds in the room as Constance and I chose beds and unpacked out suitcases.

A bell rung, signaling curfew.

I pulled the covers up close to my face. The blanket was itchy and thin. It was stitched with a faded Gryffindor crest. I did not feel proud to be in Hogwarts. I did not feel proud to be in Gryffindor. I wanted out.

–––––––––––

"Everyone, find a cauldron," Professor Maulk said. He was the potions teacher. "I have written the instructions on the board. Please do your best to create a sleeping draught."

I gathered ingredients from a cabinet in the back of the room. I broke two vials, and my potion came out as a bubbling mixture as thick as clay. It was dark red, and bubbles rose to the surface. They popped like animals gasping for air.

After potions, I had Charms, which was just as bad as potions. I couldn't make a feather fly. All I could do was wave my wand and stupidly say "wingardium leviosa".

In Transfiguration, I managed to do _something_ at least. Instead of turning my stick into a pencil, at least it lit on fire. I pointed out to Professor Lexan that I _had_ transfigured the stick into ashes.

I earned one detention. My first day, and I had to spend one hour cleaning the trophies in the cases. It was all because I took off my stupid mask. It was getting hard to breath, and I only took it off for a moment. But, no! They _have_ to be on all day, 24/7.

That night in the common room, Constance sought me out. I was in the middle of doing homework, but I didn't mind.

"I hate this place," she confided in me.

"It's all wrong!" I said, feeling her pain.

"We deserve better."

I nodded my head. "You're Constance, right?" I asked.

"Yeah. Constance Weasley."

"Like… Ron Weasley? Is he your grandpa or something?" I asked.

"Great Grandpa. No wonder I got put in _this_ house. I hate him," Constance said distastefully. "Although my mom says he was a great hero. All the Weasleys are nut jobs."


End file.
